


A.K.A. Jo Wilson

by ficdirectory



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Gen, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2020-01-04 06:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18337856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficdirectory/pseuds/ficdirectory
Summary: After Jo’s confession to DeLuca, she must deal with the consequences.





	A.K.A. Jo Wilson

**Author's Note:**

> This was written post Season 12 and does not include anything canon regarding what is now known about Jo's background and story.

My name isn’t important.

What’s important is that you only know what I want you to know about me. And that I know everything there is to know about you.  Information is power, and I need all the power I can get.

I can’t get caught unaware.  Not this time.  Not again.

DeLuca’s been acting weird.  Like, really weird.  Crazy, darting eyes, and avoiding me.  I know Alex beat him up, but I don’t remember why.  Everything about that day is so fuzzy.

One day, he finally pulls me aside.  Into an on-call room, which makes my heart race.  He doesn’t know I could actually kick his ass harder than Alex did.  That I’ve knocked guys unconscious before.  

I play it cool. Annoyed.

“What, DeLuca?”

His lip is split, but healing, stitches that look like bugs sit next to his lip. More are beside his eye.  I don’t feel guilty because I still don’t know what he did when I was too drunk to remember.  All I remember is Steph was there one minute and gone the next.

His hands are up and he keeps his distance.  “Listen, I just think you ought to tell Karev.”

“Tell Karev what?” I demand.

“Come on.  Don’t play dumb.  Not after he messed up my face.  Jo - whatever your name is - you need to tell him.”

“What do you mean whatever my name is?” I laugh like he is clueless, because I can’t deal with the alternative.  My heart is galloping in my chest.  

“You told me,” he says softly.  “About your husband.”

“I was drunk!  I told you I married Prince Charming, or something, so what’s the big deal?  I made it up!”

“It didn’t sound made up to me…  A guy who hits you?  Makes you fear for your life so much you can’t even divorce him ‘cause he might find you?”

I stare at him hard.  “You can’t say anything.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Jo.”

“How did you get into this program under a false name?”

“Shut up!”  

“You need to tell Karev, or I will.”

“Oh, please.  No one’s gonna believe you…”

I’m calling the police!  I’m telling them you punched me!

Oh please.  No one’s gonna believe you…

I go cold all over.

God…why is he doing this to me?

–

Alex is barely talking to me.  Even though I was obviously not in control with DeLuca and whatever happened - or didn’t happen - wasn’t my fault, Alex can’t seem to look me in the eyes.  

We’re never both home at the same time which makes it fairly easy to avoid each other.  Mostly, I just sit and think about my choices.

Do I have any?  

What can I do?

I just got rid of the gun.

Damn it!

The choice that doesn’t even feel like a choice is staring me in the face.  It’s so familiar.  So fear-driven.  I have done it so many times.  To do it again would be the first honest thing I have done in years.  I entertain the thought - rolling it around in my head.  It’s like a cigarette and I’m an addict in need of a nicotine fix.  I urge the thought closer, and then back off.

You could run.

Really, I should.  

Honestly, I should’ve run after I beat up Jason, but Alex and the rest had my back.  I was starting to feel safe here.  It was nice to think that there was a guy out there who wanted to protect me instead of wanting to get stuff from me, or use me.

I let my guard down.

I know better, and I let my guard down.  I let it down then and I let it down now, by drunkenly confessing to DeLuca of all people, my biggest shame and secret:

That I’m a victim.

I have fought every day since to be more than that.  To make this, reinvented me more than just that one thing.  More than the abandoned baby at the firestation.  More than the foster kid who got moved a ton of times.  More than the teenager who lived in her car.  More than that sad, sorry, pathetic loser who got black eyes and bruised ribs when I brought home lite beer instead of regular.

He may have beat me, but I beat the odds.  Jo Wilson beat the odds.

Jo is strong and takes no shit.  

Yeah, she’s insecure and kind of a jerk, but she cares.  She gives a damn.  She helps homeless people because she knows what it’s like to be that.  She fights for babies to have parents who give a damn about them.  

She is gonna make something of herself.  Even if the girl behind the name never can.

Even if I can never breathe my own name again.

It will be better.

Better to be someone  else.  Hide in plain sight.  Sprinkle little bits of truth into the bigger lies so they sound believable.  

Alex bought it and Alex has the BS-detector I’ve ever seen.  

It must be that I’ve started to believe the fantasy myself.  That I am that combination of people: Jo, the strong, masculine protagonist in Little Women and Mr. Wilson, the crotchety old neighbor on Dennis the Menace.

It’s a lie, but in a way, it’s more me than I ever was using my birth name.  I am who I’ve created myself to be - not a scared, cowardly shadow.  A strong, truth-telling badass.  With a name so common, it might as well be Jane Doe.

Deep down, I want to tell Alex.  I trust him more than I trust anyone else, which is saying something.  But I won’t put him in danger, which leaves me back at square one.  I look around me, taking stock.

It’d take less than five minutes to cram everything into a trash bag, clean Alex out, and run.  And I could do that.  But I don’t want to.

I want to stay.

I’ve built a life here.  

And why the hell should I have to leave when He’s the asshole who should be running?  

I got rid of the gun, but maybe I can get it back.  Maybe it will be okay.  As long as I can convince DeLuca to keep his mouth shut.

–

I corner him the next day in the same on-call room.

“What do you want?” I whisper, holding him against the wall.

He looks scared to death.  Like I might kill him.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, okay?  Just tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

He blinks and slowly realization dawns.  “…You’re trying to buy my silence?” he asks, incredulous.  “This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t do bribes…”

I lean in and kiss DeLuca.  Just the way He liked it.    “Are you sure you don’t do bribes?” I’m practically purring into his ear.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.  Not since I was living in my car.  Not since Before.  But it comes back as easily as slipping on a jacket.  Desperate times, I tell myself, even as I feel myself going numb inside.

DeLuca gasps and then gives in.  He kisses me back, and I have him.

I literally have him by the balls.

“That’s what I thought…” I whisper.

Everything I’ve done to start over and it’s with this one action that I start to lose myself.  I remember when things got so desperate that I had to whore myself out just to survive.  I had no job.  I had no skills.  I had no hope.  I knew I’d end up in jail or dead.

And then I wasn’t.

Because then, He came, and changed everything.  He made me feel alive again.  Made me feel I worthy…of being alive of being saved…rescued from that hellhole of a car I had been living in.

Kissing DeLuca I go somewhere else.  I feel hollow.  Empty.  But also strangely in control and powerful.  I pour myself into this.  I make myself care.  Because DeLuca’s silence matters.  

Our clothes are coming off.  I have to stop him before my hand goes to his pocket, to automatically search him for money.  He’ll know something’s off for sure then.  I have to keep control of this situation.  I have to rock his world.  Make him forget all about telling Alex.  All about what I said.

Our pagers go off at the same time.

“Damn it,” he says.

“You can have more of this,” I trace one finger down his chest.  “Anytime.  Just say the word.”

He blinks and backs off.  

I’ve gone too far.  I freaked him out.

“Please.  Don’t say anything, okay?  I just need some time to figure it out first.”

“Fine,” he says, looking eager to just get the hell away from me.  He darts out the door and I am hot on his heels.  

We have a trauma to get to.

–

It’s been days and Alex still won’t talk to me.  I’ve even tried asking Dr. Grey to give him a message from me but she won’t be the go-between in our relationship.  At least, to her, I’m still Jo.  

This whole thing kinda makes me miss Torres, to be honest.  There’s nobody in ortho like her and it’s lonely there now.  We couldn’t ever really talk before, but somehow, I imagine us talking about this.  Maybe it’s because she had all that relationship drama with Robbins.  But I feel like she wouldn’t judge me for doing what I had to just to make it.  To survive.

As it stands now, I have no one.  I don’t have Alex, I alienated Steph, I’ve got DeLuca by the balls, and there isn’t anyone else I remotely trust with crap of this level.

Grey’s been through her share, but she’s also scary as hell, and I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.

What am I thinking?  Seriously, have I learned nothing?  I can’t trust anyone.  It’s me against the world and that’s it.  Yeah, it’s been a long time since it’s been like that, but I made it work then and I can make it work now.  

It’s fine.

I can do this.

–

Things with Wilson - well, whoever she is - have gotten out of control.  

And DeLuca gets that she’s all worried about him telling Karev, but Karev hates his guts and wants to kill him…which is kind of ironic, because he’s assuming DeLuca took advantage of Wilson when Wilson just had her way with him in an on-call room.  

It’s not like he could really tell anyone.  He broke up with Maggie.  Edwards is nowhere.  Cross is kind of…not helpful unless he’s buying cheese.  He could talk to Robbins, but it’s not really Robbins’ business, and Wilson - whoever she is - seems pretty shaken up about anyone knowing.

It’s too quiet around without Sofia there, and he and Robbins are rarely home at the same time.  It’s about as ideal a living situation as he could get.  No one gets pissy.  Robbins helps him tie ties and he helps her tighten up screws on her leg when she needs it.  She carries a screwdriver on her all the time.

He’s not focusing.  

He can’t talk to Hunt or Riggs or Avery.  Kepner and Robbins are friends so that might be an option but Kepner just had a kid so….  That makes him think of Warren, who did Kepner’s crash-C in the middle of Grey’s kitchen table.

Warren’s got a cool head in stressful situations.

“Hey…um…” DeLuca hedges as they’re waiting for the ambulance in the trauma bay a couple days later.  “So…what do you do if someone needs help…if they’re in danger, but they won’t say anything.  And the person you should tell hates your guts and wants to murder you?”

Warren blinks.  “That’s…oddly specific. But…I’d say…if you’re friend’s really in danger, you gotta say something.”

“You can’t talk if you’re dead…” DeLuca mutters.

“So, do it around other people.  Have witnesses.  He can’t kill you if he’s in front of people, right?”

“It’s kinda…private.” DeLuca hedges.

“You want private?” a voice purrs behind him and a chill runs down DeLuca’s back.  Not-Wilson is standing there, looking at him with bedroom eyes, even in the yellow trauma gown.

This is gonna be a long shift.

–

It doesn’t take long to decide:  I have to run.  I go home and pack a few things.  Nothing he’ll miss.  It’s not like Alex will care anyway.   He’s pissed at me.   I don’t blame him.  Not after everything that’s happened.  Not after I’ve screwed everything up.  It’s for the best this way.  This way, Alex will be protected.  This way, I can stay who I’ve been to him.

I can stay Jo.  

I never have to be someone who betrayed him so badly - even if it is what I had to do to stay alive.  

He can never find me.  And DeLuca is primed for talking.  For spilling the whole damn thing.  The promise of sex has done little to shut him up. I totally found him confessing everything he knew to Ben and Ben giving DeLuca advice about me.

DeLuca can kiss my ass.

No one can know.

Especially not Alex.

I don’t leave a note.   I take everything that matters in a few trash bags.  I’m wearing the watch, so I take that off.  Better to look like I’ve got nothing than to look like I’ve got stuff to steal.

I’m not naive like I was at sixteen.  I’m older now.  I have life experience.  I can start over somewhere new.  

I toss my phone and destroy the sim card and that crushes me.  My whole life is in there.  All my ties to Seattle.  To Alex.  I buy a disposable cell and some cheap hair dye.  Blonde is my best bet in the summer.  I buy some clothes - cheap and nondescript - so I can disappear.

Lying comes back so easily - like it’s my mother tongue.  And I remember I’ve never really stopped.  I drive as far as I can on the gas that I have.  I cleaned out my bank account - not that I had much there to begin with - but it’s enough to live in a hotel for a while, until I can figure something else out.  

I try to relax in the squeaky bed in the room with paper thin walls.  The whole time I’m in here, I’m thinking of my car parked out in the lot.  My car is literally all I have for shelter if this hotel thing stops working out, which it will.

I can’t sleep, so I think instead.  I didn’t give notice to anyone.  Not Chief Bailey.  No one.  I wonder what she’ll do with basically nobody on ortho.  She’ll probably have to hire somebody.  But even I know there’s no one out there as talented as Torres, and probably, no one as strong as me.

Oh well.  

They’ll get by.

I had to.

–

The next day, DeLuca checks the on call room first thing, but Wilson’s not waiting for him.  

“Anybody seen Wilson?” Maggie asks, irritated.

“What’s going on?” DeLuca asks.  

“Wilson didn’t show up for work,” Grey says, looking concerned.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why.  The Grey-Sloan grapevine had it that was the first clue she had that Dr. Shepherd was…well…that something wasn’t right there.  He had a meeting and didn’t show up.  Later, they found out the worst had happened.

DeLuca tries to backtrack.  To think of the last thing he said to Wilson, but all he can remember is that her hair smelled like citrus and her mouth…and her hands…

“Why are we standing in the hall?” Avery asks.

DeLuca blinks and the crowd has doubled.  Now Warren, Avery and Kepner have joined.

“Wilson didn’t show up for her shift,” he fills in, clearing his throat.  

“Now that’s just bad manners,” Warren remarks.

“Has anyone paged her?” Kepner asks.

“Her pager was on my desk,” Chief Bailey fills in sounding stern.  “Does anybody care to tell me how Wilson’s pager got onto my desk, in my dark, locked office?  Karev?”

DeLuca jumps a foot.  Directly behind him, like special ops is Karev.  Silent but deadly.  

He shrugs.  “No idea.  Listen, how would I know?”  

“Oh, this is all I need right now.  I need Dr. Webber…Dr. Webber!” she calls.  “I need you to get Edwards on the phone and have her cover Wilson’s shift.  And I need to know…who was the last person to speak to Wilson?”

DeLuca glances around. He hopes someone will save him from this.  From having to speak up.  Karev looks like he doesn’t care, but DeLuca knows better.  Guys always care about stuff like this.  He waits until Karev walks away and then he falls into step behind Chief Bailey.

“Ma’am?” he asks.  “I may have been the last person to speak to her…but I can’t be sure.”

“She has never not shown up for a shift without calling.  Was there anything in her behavior that might have given you cause for concern?”

“Somewhat, ma’am.  But we can’t report her missing…”

“…For twenty-four hours, I know,” Chief Bailey frowns.  “If you hear from her you’ll let me know?”

“Yes, ma’am…”

The next morning, DeLuca doesn’t let himself think about it, he just sneaks into Robbins’ purse and grabs her phone.  He’s seen her put the code in often enough to know she uses Sofia’s birthdate.  Then, he makes quick work of scrolling through her contacts until he finds Alex Karev.

He puts the number in his own phone and drops Robbins’ back into her purse.  Then he heads to his room, keeping a low profile.  He’s got a few minutes while Robbins’ is getting ready, to do this without her wondering what he’s up to or why.

DeLuca takes a deep breath, and highlights Karev’s name.

Waits.

Better to get him on the phone than to talk to him in person and getting his ass kicked.

“Alex Karev,” his voice snaps.

“Karev, this is DeLuca.  Don’t hang up.”

“…Why the hell not?” Karev demands.

“It’s about Jo.  Listen…I know you don’t believe me but that day…the day of Hunt and Shepherd’s wedding…she got drunk.  Edwards left and told me to keep an eye on her and I swear that’s all I was doing.  I drove her home and she told me some stuff.  Stuff you should know.  I tried to convince her to tell you herself but I…I think she took off.”

“Yeah, well, good riddance.”

“Karev, wait!”

“I don’t play games, DeLuca.  I’m a grown ass man!  If she wants to talk to me she’ll talk to me.  If she wants to run like a coward, she’ll run like a coward.  She’s not my responsibility.”

“But–”

“Is she in danger?” Karev snaps, clearly expecting the answer to be no.

“Yes,” DeLuca says seriously.  

“So, do something about it,” Karev says.

DeLuca takes a breath.  “Do you have any idea where she might go?”

“Dude, I don’t play games and neither does she.  If Jo doesn’t wanna be found, she won’t be.”

–

At work, DeLuca is asking everyone for not-Wilson’s number.  He feels creepy doing it - being that guy - but what choice does he have?

He can’t find Edwards, so that leaves him with Cross.  

“You don’t, by chance, have Jo’s number, do you?” DeLuca asks.

Cross’s eyes light up.  “Don’t I wish!”

Even though it makes him uncomfortable, he asks Maggie if she knows it.  She just narrows her eyes at him and says, “girl code.”

“What?” Women make no sense to him sometimes.

“If Wilson wanted you to have her number she would have given it to you herself.  Stop asking.  It’s creepy.”

Eventually, he finds Edwards and asks if she’ll try calling Jo herself.  

“I’ve tried but it’s not even her voicemail.  It’s an automated voice saying the person I’m trying to reach is unavailable.”

“This isn’t good…” DeLuca mutters.

“She’ll be okay.  Trust me.  Jo can handle herself,” Edwards says confidently.

DeLuca almost says “She’s not Jo,” but instead he goes to find Chief Bailey, to see if the police have a clue as to her whereabouts.

But she has vanished, just like she hoped, and DeLuca is sick about it.

–

It’s been longer than 24 hours and Alex would be lying if he said he’s not freaking out.  Jo may not be his responsibility - because she’s not, she’s her own - he’s been ready to marry her.  And he knows being ready to make that kind of commitment means you damn well go after the one you love when they’re in trouble.

He’s just pissed.  Because he can’t take DeLuca’s word for it, and because Jo has no memory of what happened, Alex is stuck with not ever knowing.  And he’d always rather know.  Even if the truth is terrible, he would always rather know it.

If you know it, you know what to prepare for.  You know how to plan.  How to fight it, and maybe, how to beat it.

But you can’t beat what you don’t know.  

And Alex is just about as clueless as he’s ever been about anything, but he’s got to start somewhere.  He’s got to just start.

So, he gets down on the floor and reaches for the damn shoebox where Jo kept a gun for god-knows-how-many-months without him knowing.  Warily, he opens it, and his heart drops.

Not a gun.

Her watch.

That thing was a gift from the only person who gave a crap about Jo.  The only person there for her at her high school graduation.  The thing that made him assume she was privileged.  That made him read her all wrong.  

She wouldn’t leave this behind if everything were alright.  She valued this.  And you don’t leave the thing you value most in the world behind in a place you know your boyfriend will look unless…

Unless she wants him to find her.

He’s been saying this whole time how he doesn’t play games.  What he hasn’t realized is that this isn’t one.  This is serious.  Jo’s in serious trouble.  It’s deeper than she messed around with DeLuca or whatever.

This is classic Jo, and it isn’t.

When things get deep or serious, she gets squirrely and wants to leave before anybody can ditch her and of course he gets that.  But she would never go and leave something like this behind, least of all something expensive like this.  If it were him, he’d pawn it for cash if he were hard up.  And if she’s out there alone somewhere, she’s hard up.

Her phone’s disconnected.  She probably trashed it and the SIM card, too.  Got a disposable.  It’s what he would have done.  

He’s got a couple days off so he gets in the car and starts driving, asking around at every hole in the wall diner, every hotel, hospital or anywhere, if they’ve seen somebody that looks like Jo.  He’s got her picture.  Her license plate number.  He describes her and the car over and over and over.

They ask if he’s a detective.  A cop.

“I’m a surgeon.”

They stare at him blankly.

He looks everywhere.  All over Seattle and the surrounding area and he can’t find her.  

His heart’s going a thousand miles a minute and he grips the steering wheel with all he’s got.  What if she’s knocked up and that’s why she ran?

He shakes his head.  

“Get it together, Karev,” he says out loud.  

She’d wanted to have a kid with him, because he wanted it…unless she was DeLuca’s…  He stabs DeLuca’s name on his cell screen at a red light and waits.

When he picks up a few seconds later, he sounds like he might piss himself.  “Hello?”

“What exactly did Jo tell you?” Karev demands.

“…I don’t know if I should say anything…” he hedges, infuriating Karev.

“You thought it was fine to tell me something was up before, didn’t you?  You said she’s in danger.  In order to protect her, I have to know what the hell is going on.”

“She’s protecting you,” DeLuca stresses.

Everything inside Karev stops cold.

“What?”

–

No matter how much Karev threatens, promising to make DeLuca’s life a living hell, he won’t break Jo’s confidence.  Somewhere, it gives him a grudging respect for the kid, but this isn’t the time for keeping promises and worrying about feelings and crap.

It doubles Karev’s efforts, and it sends him into a vortex of his own memories as a kid.  First, of protecting Aaron and Amber when they were kids, and then, the rapid succession of foster homes, starting at age eleven.

All of them said, “You’re safe here.”  All of them said, “You can trust us.”  But it turned out to never be true.  They never kept him safe so he could never trust them.  

At one, they didn’t tell him honest answers to his questions.

At another, they got mad at him for taking food, after they said “Make yourself at home.”

At a third, they didn’t know how to keep him safe when he lost control.  They kicked him out for screaming.  For swearing.  For beating up the other kids.  For putting holes in walls.

No one ‘til Grey…’til Bailey…’til Robbins…even Yang….had really showed him how to deal.  From them, he learned, you know?  Walk away.  Advocate for the kids (even though no one ever did for him) because it’s the right thing.  Value your life.  Just hang out next to someone instead of punching people, and eventually, maybe you’ll say stuff…and maybe you’ll feel better.

Had he passed it along?

Had he let Jo in on all the stuff he’d been taught?  He knows he tried, but was it enough?  ‘Cause she’s out there now dealing with whatever the hell she’s dealing with.  He knows she’s already lived through hell.  

Why would she run, if she’s got him?  

What the hell is she protecting him from?

–

Alex is looking for me.

God, this is all I need right now.  

I’ve been gone for I don’t know how long and I’ve expected him to give up by now, but he hasn’t and it’s freaking me out.  Is he coming because DeLuca spilled everything?  Is he pissed?  Is he coming after me because he wants revenge?

My stomach growls and I know I’m not thinking rationally because I’m hungry.  I blew through my money way faster than I expected.  So now, it’s no more hotel.  

Tonight, I’m looking at my first night in my car in eight years.  

It makes me want to puke, just the level of vulnerability.  This being at everyone’s mercy.  This having no power.  

I think of home.  Run through anyone and everyone I might be able to hit up for cash but that just makes me feel gross.  Besides they probably already know everything by now.  All of them probably hate me and are glad I’m gone.

A couple more days and my resolve is crumbling.  

I’ve survived off an expired can of warm diet Coke and old ketchup.  It’s disgusting, but it’s all I have.  When I run out, I feel a desperation I have rarely known.  It was this moment, years ago, that made me so vulnerable to what came next.  To Him and all His manipulation.

I feel depleted to almost nothing.  Running was impulsive and it was stupid.  It was the choice I made as a child, but I’m an adult now, and I need to know how to deal with things as an adult.  That means taking the risk and reaching out.

Hunched down in my car in the dark, I dial Steph’s number by memory and wait as it rings.  I wonder if she’ll answer a call from a random number.  I wonder if she’ll even talk to me.  I wonder–

“This is Stephanie Edwards,”

“Steph…” I breathe.

“Jo?  Where are you?  We’re all freaking out!  Are you okay?”  Her questions come, firing at me a mile a minute, and all I can do is let the tears track down my cheeks in silence.

Because, to her, I’m still Jo.

DeLuca didn’t tell.

“I’m in trouble…” I manage.  I don’t tell her why I ran, but I tell her how I’ve been living the past few days.  “Steph, the last time this happened, I was so desperate I made a choice that almost got me killed.”

She’s quiet for a second and then she says, “Then, I think you have to make a different choice.”

I nod even though she can’t hear me.  I know she’s right.

“Seriously…do you need me to come get you?”

My gas tank is almost empty and I have no money to refill it.  “Yeah, but there’s something I have to do first…”  I tell her where I am and then I hang up and dial Alex.

I do it because I do have control.  Because I can’t spend the rest of my life running from a jealous asshole that I’m tied to against my will.  I need to do something.  And this time, maybe, I can.  But I need to tell Alex first.  And my decision to act can’t be based on what he says or does.  I have to be strong enough to follow through for myself, whether or not he’s beside me.

I take a deep breath as he picks up, telling me “This is Alex Karev, do you know what damn time it is right now?  I was sleeping…”

“Alex,” I manage and he stops cold.

“Jo?” It’s like he can’t believe it’s me.  His reaction is everything I never let myself hope for and here I am, about to ruin it all with the truth.  But that’s what Alex values more highly than anything else.  That’s what he deserves in order to make an informed decision.

“Alex…” I say again.  “I have to tell you something…”


End file.
